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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29303082">Freaks</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyUsOutOfHere/pseuds/FlyUsOutOfHere'>FlyUsOutOfHere</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Health Issues, Not Beta Read, Recovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Suicide Attempt, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, implied derealization?, implied panic attacks?, nothing graphic tho!, technoblade is gonna be Supportive Brother, we die like ranboo's sanity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:41:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,487</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29303082</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyUsOutOfHere/pseuds/FlyUsOutOfHere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>after dream explodes logstedshire, tommy doesn't know what to do. he jumps but the universe decided that it's not his time to die, so of course the only option left is to go to technoblade</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>ALL PLATONIC, Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), shippers dni - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Freaks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>no spoilers i dont think because the exile arc was so long ago<br/>tw for suicide attempt (not graphic)<br/>tw for suicidal thoughts (not graphic)<br/>tw for other mental health things like panic attacks, derealization, self-esteem issues, etc. (not graphic)<br/>let me know if I need to add anything else!<br/>also i listened to freaks by surf curse on a loop while writing so that's the vibe of the fic:)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tommy was terrified. Completely and absolutely terrified. He couldn’t think, couldn’t move, hell, he couldn’t even breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>All he could see was the wide expanse of land far below him, and all he could was the freezing cold wind. Maybe if it wasn’t so cold he wouldn’t be so distracted and then maybe he’d already be dead.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He’s gonna do it. He’s gonna do it. He has to, doesn’t he? Even if Dream had been lying to him all along, it was undeniable that nobody had come to see him in weeks. Or was it months? </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But Dream is his friend, right? His best friend, even.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Tommy’s pulled out of his thoughts when an especially strong gust of wind pushed against him, and he almost lost his balance. He let out a small laugh at that; it would be terribly ironic if he died in some freak accident instead. Would they think it was an accident? Would they find his body? Would they care?</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Tommy couldn’t answer the first two questions, but he was almost certain that no, they wouldn’t care. He didn’t blame them. Maybe, before he was exiled, he would’ve been upset at the thought. But now, he’s accepted it. Even way back before exile, before the wars, before everything, he was never wanted. Needed, maybe, for certain things, but never actually wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Tommy needed them though. Wanted them, too.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>His thoughts are going too fast and he needs them to shut up, please, please, please just shut up I can’t think I can’t think I can’t think please. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He’s tired and his eyes are sore and he feels empty and he asks himself, “Am I already dead?” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Tommy sighs deeply, before slowly getting to his feet. He’s dizzy, and he almost falls right then and there. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>One more deep breath. He grips his compass tightly in his hand; luckily Dream had left right after the explosion and Tommy had managed to grab it, before building the wobbly pillar he was standing on now. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>In, out, in, out, in, out. Tommy remembers Tubbo teaching him that technique, for when his thoughts got too fast and he couldn’t breathe. Tommy had sworn Tubbo to secrecy after that. Nobody could know that he was just a kid. A child, with feelings, who didn’t know how to deal with them. Tommy didn’t want them to know that underneath it all, he was just a weak, pathetic kid. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Of course, Tommy now knew that everybody had known all along. He now knew that they all hated him, probably, especially Tubbo. Tubbo hated him, and that was Tommy’s last thought before he took a step forward onto empty air, and he was finally at peace.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Except. Wait, he was still falling, which was normal, of course, it was an incredibly long fall, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Still falling. Falling and waiting. Except. It’s cold now and he can’t breathe and the blood rushing to his head is all he can hear. Shit. He quickly swims upward, gasping for breathe when his head finally leaves the surface of the water.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>What the fuck, he thinks to himself. He’s in a fucking pond. A fucking tiny pond that statistically he should not have landed in. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Fuck. Tommy didn’t know what to do, he thought he’d be dead by now. He slowly pulls himself out of the water, shaking from the cold. Shit shit shit shit shit. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Dream’s gonna come back soon and it will all be the same again  and Tommy wants to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He wants to cry and once he realizes that hey, nobody’s around to see him, he does. He cries and he screams and he just sits there for what feels like hours, his soaking wet clothes freezing to his body. He doesn’t feel the cold, though, he feels numb. Numb in his body and numb in his head. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There’s nothing left here. Nothing. He can’t cry anymore and honestly he doesn’t care if Dream comes back right now but he knows that Dream will be mad at him no matter what and he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want Dream to be mad at him and he doesn’t want anyone to be mad at him. He just wants to stop. Stop existing, stop living maybe. He just wants it all to stop.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He finally stands up again, and begins to walk. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Not to the nether, not towards Lmanburg, just...forward. It gets colder the more he walks, and after a while he notices that it’s snowing. He’s still numb.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>God, he’s tired though. Fucking exhausted, actually, and it’s too quiet, so he talks. Mutters things to himself under his breath, just letting his words fall out.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He stares down at the ground as he walks, watching the way his thin shoes make small imprints in the snow. All he can hear is himself and he hates it. Still too quiet,</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He hears a horse loudly whinny, and that’s when he finally looks up and sees a house. More of a cottage, actually.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But there’s a horse tied to the fence and he can see smoke come from the chimney and maybe he should’ve thought about it first, but he wastes no time in opening the front door and rushing in.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He’s hit with an almost overwhelming blast of warmth, and only then does he realize how hungry he is. The room is large, filled floor to ceiling with chests and barrels and furnaces and crafting tables. It’s dim, the only light coming from the fireplace in the corner, but Tommy doesn’t mind. He immediately rushes to the nearest furnace, and pulls out some steak. In a chest nearby, he finds a few apples and a couple slices of pumpkin pie. He sits on the ground, his back tightly pushed up against the wall, and digs in.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It’s been so long since he’s had a real, full, meal, so all the food’s gone in minutes. His stomach hurts and he feels like he’s about to pass out, but he’s okay, because he’s Tommy Innit and Tommy Innit is always okay. After a few moments of sitting, he stands up, ignoring the extreme dizziness and fatigue that follows, and he looks around the room, climbing up a ladder to the second floor. This floor has a few couches and tables, and the walls are covered in...pig paraphernalia? And signs raving about anarchy, and arson, and...shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, Tommy thinks to himself. Out of everyone on the entire server, he just had to stumble into Technoblade’s house.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Tommy and Technoblade had a...complicated relationship. It didn’t help that the last time they had seen each other was when Technoblade had killed Tubbo. Tommy didn’t like to think about Technoblade because thinking about Technoblade always led him to think about Tubbo’s execution, which then lead to thinking about Schlatt, which then led to Pogtopia, then to Wilbur, and it was all just too much for Tommy. So he just...didn’t think about it. He avoided any and all thoughts of his estranged brother. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But now, he’s in his house. He’s in his house and he’s still so goddamn cold. So he does the first logical thing he can think of: hide. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He grabs a worn pickaxe from one of the chests, and goes down to the basement, and just digs down. He places a ladder, and covers the hole up, and brings down some supplies, and he...waits. He just waits there for what feels like hours but maybe it’s only minutes. For all Tommy knows, he’s been hiding for days.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But he’s still cold. He has a blanket he snatched from a chest, and his clothes are dry now, but he’s still cold and he can’t stop shaking and his heart is beating far too loud and he can’t feel his hands and his head’s been throbbing, a constant </span>
  <em>
    <span>thump thump thump thump</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Tommy hasn’t moved. He hasn’t moved and has he eaten? He thinks so but he’s not certain and right now if he found out he had died sometime while hiding and had somehow been resurrected as some sort of ghost, he wouldn’t be surprised. He doesn’t feel real and it all feels fake and he can’t think.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>On day five, the few torches Tommy had brought down with him finally blew out, and he was emerged in a peaceful darkness. All he could hear was the steady drip of water falling from the stone ceiling, except it wasn’t really a ceiling since the hole was only tall enough for Tommy to stand in. On day six, he runs out of food and doesn’t have the energy to get more. He just goes to sleep and he doesn’t know how long he’s been sleeping but he’s suddenly awoken when he hears a door slam and heavy footsteps above him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>On day nine, Technoblade comes home. </span>
</p>
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